


Ashes to Ashes

by XinyiC



Category: We're Alive: Frontier, We’re Alive - A “Zombie” Story of Survival (Podcast)
Genre: Euthanasia, Fluff, Gen, Introspection, Spoilers, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 09:11:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14132874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XinyiC/pseuds/XinyiC
Summary: SPOILERS for S1E4 of We're Alive: Frontier.After Asher's death, Bandaid takes a moment to reflect. Also features Wraith being a good bro.





	Ashes to Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Much love and thanks to the entire cast of We're Alive: Frontier, in particular Xander Jeanneret for creating and playing Bandaid wonderfully, and Ivan van Norman as the terrifying/amazing/brilliant GM. Also thanks to KC Wayland for giving us this verse to play in. You are all such inspirations and wonderful people.

__

_To those who served and to those who made the UA safe._

_“We should get going.”_

Jenny takes the controls of the rail driver, giving Bandaid a pointed look-- the I’ve got this, stop hovering look-- and he takes the hint, nodding and leaving the chamber, heading for the bunks. Rai’s already there, curled up under a blanket, breathing soft and steady-- she has the soldier’s trick of being able to sleep whenever and wherever. 

Bandaid’s never been able to do that. 

He looks up at the bunk where he dumped his gear, and all of a sudden it looks much too high to even bother climbing up. Eh, fuck it. He strips off his coat, drops it in a puddle of fabric on the ground in a corner, and slumps down on it, pressing his back against the cold metal of the wall. Thunder rumbles outside, and he idly listens to the quiet ticking sound of raindrops hitting the rail driver's metal exterior.

_What a fucking shitty day._

Bandaid can still see Asher’s face floating in front of his eyes, and hears the young man’s voice shaking in poorly-suppressed fear. 

_I’m sorry, Asher. I lied._

Asher had been so eager to hear that everything was going to be all right, that Bandaid could fix this. The kid shouldn’t have been anywhere near the border, never mind leading a mission into this hell. He’d _liked_ the kid, dammit, brash irritating boy that he’d been.

“Too soft,” Bandaid mutters under his breath, careful not to wake Rai. He can still smell it-- that nauseating, sweet stink of burning flesh and bone and hair clings to his skin and clothes, and he knows from hard experience that even a hot shower won’t get rid of the stink. Perversely, he doesn’t really want it to fade-- there’s nothing _left_ of Asher except his gear, dumped in a box nearby, and the smell on his skin. It’s an intangible reminder of yet another person he failed. 

_He should’ve been home with his mom._

The memory of brown hair and a warm smile makes him smile sadly. She hadn’t had a chance-- they’d been out foraging, just the two of them, and an Infected had attacked. He hadn’t been paying attention, dumb kid that he’d been-- too absorbed in his own problems-- and she’d pushed him aside and taken the brunt of the creature’s slashing claws. Luckily, the Infected had been a weak one, and fled when he hit it with a metal bar. 

He still remembers the terror, the helplessness, the sick realization that filled the pit of his stomach when he’d seen the bleeding wound along her upper arm. 

_“Ben, don’t-- there’s nothing you can do.”_

_“No, Mom-- there’s gotta be something, I just have to find it--”_

She’d steadily deteriorated as he frantically searched for a cure and tried to make her comfortable as he tried to push back the infection, but she had tried to stay positive for his sake. 

Two sleepless, agonizing days later, she'd told him to take as many supplies as he could carry and head for the nearest settlement, eight miles east. 

_“But what about you, Mom? I can't just leave you here--”_

_“You can and you will. There's nothing more you can do, Ben. You've been very brave but this isn’t a fight you can win.”_

_“Mom--”_

_“I know. It's okay. This isn't your fault.”_

_“If-- if I'd just been--”_

_“I chose to protect you, Ben. I don't regret it. I love you. Now get your things together and go. Don’t look back. Promise me you won't look back.”_

He'd argued, persuaded, and pleaded, but she remained unmoved, and eventually he'd stumbled from their home with a full pack and stinging eyes. 

When he heard the gunshot, he'd hardened his heart and kept walking. 

There's the faint smell of ozone in the air from the lightning strikes, and Bandaid inhales, trying to drive away the memories. He’s lost too many people over the years. People who'd died from doing stupid shit, eating the wrong plants, small wounds getting infected, not paying attention to their surroundings, all of them looking to him in the midst of their pain for a cure, for help he hadn't been able to give. He had tried, learned as fast as he could, fought as hard as he could-- a few of them had pulled through, but far more hadn't made it. He's had to kill quite a few of them, to put them out of their misery-- he became quite the expert, however unwilling, at that.

Then the soldiers found him, and he'd run at the first opportunity. Better a deserter than-- than to be trapped _there_. 

Bandaid huffs out a long breath in the quiet of the bunk room. Deserting led him to Rai and Wraith, and he doesn't regret that part at all, even if he worries about them every time they rush into danger. 

But God, the half-trusting, half-frightened look on Asher's face as the anesthesia took hold still haunts him. For all his attitude and skill with the pistol, Asher is-- _was_ , his brain mercilessly reminds him, _you made him a was_ \-- a _child._

_He isn't the first kid you've killed. And he probably won't be the last._

Just then, a hand descends on Bandaid’s shoulder, startling the medic out of his grim thoughts. Tilting his head up, he's a little surprised to find light spilling into the bunk room from the kerosene lantern outside and Wraith standing over him, the normally inscrutable face displaying a curiously gentle concern reserved for him and Rai. Just how long has he been lost in thought?

Bandaid tries to give Wraith a smile, but it comes out more of a shaky grimace than he'd like. Wraith cocks one eyebrow, then sits down next to him, digs in his pocket, and offers-- 

\-- an earbud. 

Bandaid stares at the device for a moment, nonplussed-- Wraith shakes his head in a familiar _dumbass, like this_ movement, and delicately tucks the earbud into Bandaid’s ear. The medic automatically reaches up to adjust it, before wincing, bracing for more of Wraith’s Scandinavian death metal, only to hear what sounds like a lament of some kind, a woman's voice raised in a mournful dirge. 

They sit in silence, sharing the headphones, and listening to the rain.


End file.
